


lazy summer

by orphan_account



Category: Yogscast
Genre: Just a ficlet, M/M, Teencast, a dreadful teen au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:17:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sjin plays games with himself, in the passenger seat of Sips's beat-up car. Games like "how long can you stare at your best friend and life partner until he notices?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	lazy summer

Sjin watches Sips when Sips isn't watching. It's a game-- see how long he lasts without Sips noticing, without Sips starting and smirking at him. Sjin watches Sips when Sips is looking out the window of his dusty clunky car, because Sips is somehow most vulnerable then, sunlight shining through and illuminating his face and every single mote in the air. Sips is thinking about something, head propped up on one of his hands, looking down absently, and Sjin traces the scabs on his knuckles in his mind, imagines kissing each busted-up finger.

Such an action would be tender, and Sips does not act in tenderness. Everything about Sips is tough, muscled, ready to kill, except when it's not. There's something pretty about him, when he's loose, untensed, dark eyes cast down, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Sjin is winning his game. He is breaking a record. Sips must be thinking about something serious. His mouth is thin, corners gently downturned, his nose twisted with broken grace. 

Sjin wriggles a little on the ugly plastic of the passenger seat, trying to get comfortable, the fake fabric (something made in the 80's, something filled with deadly chemicals, something unpronounceable) sticking to the palms of his hands. Usually, he calls Sips's car "the turdmobile", if he's being friendly, or "that", if he's being dismissive, but he thinks it fits Sips perfectly. It's molded to him. The sun is broiling his neck. 

He is going on the Guinness books for "longest spent staring at Sips". He crosses his lanky legs, looks at the shadows under Sips's eyes. Sips is lazy, and a habitual napper, but he cannot sleep during the night, has never been able to. Sjin is used to it. The silence is comfortable, warm and sleepy. Maybe they no longer need to use words to communicate. Maybe Sips is communicating with him right now--

Sips coughs, breaks the peace, looks at Sjin. There is something very serious on his lips. Sjin waits with bated breath.

"Do you think birds have dicks, Sjin?" he asks, and Sjin feels a lazy grin spread like molasses over his features in response.

"I think cocks have cocks, Sips," he says, and Sips laughs, uproariously.


End file.
